


the death of a hero; the birth of a villian

by fromthefire



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: 2028, And a brain, Future, Heavy Angst, Other, Peter Needs a Hug, Seduction to the Dark Side, Villian Peter Parker, wrong tag lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24209389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthefire/pseuds/fromthefire
Summary: "Well. Tony couldn't plan for everything, now could he?" Peter gave a small but bloody smile.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	the death of a hero; the birth of a villian

The man was doubled over, coughing onto the ground what resembled blood. He had no time to tell before another punch was thrown, throwing his own hands up to block it before countering with a weak uppercut to the masked man's neck.   
He connected with a blood-stained grin and the thief watched as the smaller man staggered back, almost losing his balance momentarily. Grinning ear to ear, the thief took a gracious step towards him.   
The suited hero leaned against the cool brick wall before bringing his head up and clenching his fists. He could feel blood rushing from his nose and the sweat dripping into his eyes. 

“Stark left this city to you?” The man boomed, his tone pleased. “And you still fight like a child?” 

Taken aback but repressing it, Peter brought his left hand up and shot a web, sticking to his face and immediately pulling him down to meet the dirty floor of the alley. Two webs were shot to tie his hands to his side. He walked around the man and placed a foot on his back. With his right hand, he pulled at the web as the man groaned and his head strained back to meet Peter’s mask. The man huffed and puffed, eyes pleading for relief but his mouth only pulling at the edges.

Without notice, Peter let go and the man's head fell back down with a deep crack. His cries were muffled by the dirty ground and Peter took a moment to get a good look at him.

Peter didn't like the way the, now trembling, man whined and moaned on the cold ground. Something about the way he struggled to get away or pleaded for his life rubbed him the wrong way. He really didn't like the way his voice sounded deep and dooming and like him. The thought spooked him. 

He squealed from beneath Peter causing him to flinch. Another last look and he couldn't look anymore without seeing his unforgiving eyes and sinister smile. He shook his head and a few webs later he found himself on the route home, leaving the thief behind. He couldn't seem to shake the man's words or the way he spoke like the giant.

Don't give permanent solutions to temporary problems. Peter knew this, and he knew it very well. It was written in the back of his head when Ben died. Now it seemed to be rewritten with Tony gone. 

But Peter's morals have been thrown off the table lately, discarded almost completely and they’re not something he’s sure he wants to clean up. With Tony gone for five years now, Peter still wanted to rethink everything. Every person he’s saved; every person he couldn’t. Every good thing he’s done; every bad thing. 

It's been that way after the years since Tony’s death and each year stung more than the last. Today was no exception. 

His mask is off now. A soft gust of wind feels nice through his sweaty hair. He collapses onto the rooftop, his body tired of tending to his needs. Glazed over eyes watch over the city.

After everything that had happened, college wasn't the right place for him especially after barely passing high school. Every job left him jittery and panicked but May said that was growing up. Dealing with things we’d rather not deal with. Peters had done too much of that.

He needed a break. Not a break from SpiderMan, he supposed, because those ended with Peter feeling guilty and itching for action. He figured he needed a break from the pedestal that New York wouldn't let him down from but he couldn't help to wallow in the admiration. He didn't know what to do.

After giving up on wiping the blood that had already stained his skin, he begrudgingly slipped the mask on. He felt a tear but wiped it through the thin fabric. He let out a deep sigh.

“Spidey? That you?” A loud voice pulled Peter from his thoughts and caused him to jump in fright. “I thought that was you!” He turned to watch the figure walk into the dim light of the rooftop.

“Deadpool? What are you doing here?” Peter took a step towards him. Deadpool gave a lazy shrug and gestured his glee.

“I told you, Webs, we’re on a first-name basis here,” Deadpool smiled through his mask as Peter tilted his head.

“You’ve never told me your name…” Deadpool nodded and placed a katana into its holder on the back of his suit. He turned his and followed Peter’s gaze. 

“Still as naive as ever, Webs.” He spoke between weak laughs before the realization of the situation set in. “You okay?” 

It wasn't a secret today was the anniversary of Tony’s death. It seemed like the whole world was celebrating and they were. There was no hiding from each mural and every news broadcast.

“Spidey?”

“Oh, I'm good. Just tired.” He faced the sunrise again, angry at the other man for showing up in the first place as he struggled to convey his pain into words. “An off day, y’know?” He forced a chuckle and wondered how much time he had spent contemplating. 

“Such an off day that you break a guys nose and leave him in an alley? Not very neighborhood friendly.” Deadpool joined in staring into the sunrise, watching as Peter bent down on one knee and rested his elbow on the other knee. He shut his eyes and kept them close for a moment.

“Oh, you saw that?-” He mumbled without meeting his eyes. He couldn’t stop the shame creeping up his shoulders.

“Not many can go around webbing dickholes.” Deadpool shrugged. Peter turned his head, the confused expression obvious.

“Yeah, that didn't sound right.” He sat next to Peter. 

They sat in silence as they watched the sunrise between the skyscrapers, the sun hurting Peter's eyes each time it peaked from between the buildings. Only now, he realized how the cold bit through his suit and nipped at his skin. He couldn't stop his body from the harsh shiver. Deadpool side-eyed him.

“I’ll assume right now isn’t the best time to discuss murder tactics, but a man can dream... You’re freezing.” Peter adverted his gaze as the sun shone through two buildings.

“Yeah. I should go.” He shakily stood up and shook his head a couple of times, inhaling deeply. His bones ached. The sharp and constant bursts of cold wind made it worse.

“I’ll, uh, see you.” Peter offered. Wade opened his mouth to say something. He offered a quick wave instead.

Peter showered, changed, and finally laid down. He shut his eyes and tried to focus on the muted traffic as he did every night. His head was still pounding and the scrape on his cheek had begun to bleed again. It was a small dribble that would surely stain his pillow. He couldn't help but think of the criminal in the alley. 

All throughout the day and especially during patrol, the lingering ache in his chest was there. The way his head spun during the fights, his eyes watering more than usual when he took a punch to the face, every pain seemed amplified. He knew what was coming next if he let it. A quick glance at the clock revealed it to be 7:46 AM through blurry eyes. 

Peter gasped. Oh, God. He thought. He placed a hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart. Partly to make sure it was still there and partly to make sure it doesn't rip a hole in his chest. He found himself gasping more deeply and frequently, each time seemingly to inhale less air. 

Tony, Tony, Tony. It’s happening again. Was all he could think. God, fuck. I can’t catch my breath.

He sat up now and tore the covers off, anything touching him irritating him. He brought a foot to the floor, the other twisting from the misguided step. He fell with a harsh thud. Not being able to give his attention to the pain, he tried to focus on his breathing. He tried to draw out his breath but only choked up instead. He brought his hands from holding him up as he sat upon the floor and stared at them. The tingling in them brought light to the fact that the rest of his body was numb.

Thoughts raced through his head raisins guilt about Tony and the thief from the pit of his stomach. When his eyes shut from the dizziness all he could see was purple. Immediately, Peter vomited. 

Another glance at the clock by his bedside and it was 8:21. When the ache lessened its grip on him and he could feel his hands, he took another shower and passed out on the edge of his bed.

Hours later, Peter figured he would ignore the pain in his head and visit the rest of the Avengers. He tended to his swollen ankle he knew was sprained by wrapping a bandage around it. He winced as he applied pressure to it but stepped on it harshly on it anyway as he walked out the door.

Peter walked shyly into the new new Avengers Facility, noting how muted the building seemed today as it was every 17th of October.

“Peter? Hey kid.” He turned to see Bruce standing there, two boxes in his arms. Immediately, Peter rushed to help him with the weight, feeling a bit silly realizing who he was helping.

“Thanks.Is… is everything okay?” Peter followed Bruce to the lab, eyes trained on his own feet. 

“I- I uh …” Peter knew he looked like shit and that that’s what Bruce was getting at. “I …. I guess I got tired of pretending this day doesn’t exist.” He mumbled. Bruce kept walking but his pace slowed as he frowned. 

“I, Yeah, its-its a rough day for everyone.” He struggled. “It’s so nice to see you through. You know, besides on the T.V. How is everything, it’s been a few years,” A small thanks to Friday later, they arrived at the lab. Everything was the same in the room but it still looked empty and untouched. Peter couldn’t stifle the small sniffle. He set the box down.

“Fine, I guess? I don’t really know anymore.” He admitted. Bruce gave him a concerned look which caused Peter to feel a bit vulnerable. “But you know? Same as always, right? Sprained an ankle last night,” He awkwardly smiled as he tried to mimic the Peter everyone was used to.

“Oh, let me have a look at it,” Bruce set the other box down before Peter could protest, feeling stupid for bringing it up in the first place. Bruce’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. “Peter, this isn’t a sprain, this is a fracture.” Bruce looked to meet Peter’s wide eyes. 

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Bruce questioned and really it was a simple question but it brought tears to Peter’s eyes. Everything does. He wanted to say.

“I, yeah, but uh, I…” The doctor went to fetch what Peter assumed would be medical supplies. He mentally cursed himself as he leaned against the table, shifting the box to the side. Peter peeked inside and was met with blueprints and scrap pieces of metal and weapons. Tony’s.


End file.
